Bubbles of Sky
My heart hammering to the racing crescendo of jet engines thrusting our little vessel into the yawning blue, our aircraft suddenly shrivels. Once proud and haughty; it pawed at the runway; clamouring for its release. Yet within moments, the gaping sheet of sky strips it of all significance. A meaningless bubble; it weaves meekly through battleship clouds. The aircraft’s fragile transformation reflects my own mental transition over the passing weeks, and the pervading sense of peace that has started swirling through my mind with increasing intensity. I frequently stop myself; surprised, and ferret around for a spike of anxiety to bring me back to normality. Yet somehow, the gnawing fear feels distant: a shadow of its former self. The acceptance that I have never been less in control of my life; my day-to-day agenda; my food, family, socialising, health; relationships: brings with it a lethargic tranquillity. Any attempt to try to control the next four months of my life in Dakar ...